


Memories

by SomedayonBroadway



Series: Midnight Storms [2]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, Child Abuse, Memories, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomedayonBroadway/pseuds/SomedayonBroadway
Summary: A look into some of Jack’s memories from Midnight Storms
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly & Finch Cortez, Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly
Series: Midnight Storms [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1761874
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Yours Truly... guest from Midnight Storms, I apologize for the two year wait for this short fic, but here it is! Those memories!
> 
> I hope you like them, even though they're pretty angsty.
> 
> Please enjoy!

_ “Crutchie… no… pl’s don’ hurt ‘m… it’ll be okay…”  _

“Look… C’mon… we didn’t do nothin’!”

“Shut up, rat!” 

Jack flinched, cowering backwards. Carter had said never to get caught. It didn’t matter where they were or what they’d been doing. If the bulls caught them, it was bad. What happened next would be bad. 

The young boy wouldn’t have minded. Not really. He’d been through bad before, that much was true enough. 

What scared him was that he wasn’t alone. 

“We didn’t do nothin’! I promise—“ Crutchie screamed, trying to wrench his tiny arm from the mean old man’s grasp. But the bull would not let go. 

In fact, he threw the child to the ground and gave him a swift kick to the gut. Jack lunged forward, trying to pull the kid close. “Crutchie!” he cried. The bull shoved at him with his boot, sending Jack back into the wall of the alley they’d tried to hide in. Then he kicked Crutchie again. “No! Don’t hurt him!” the older boy begged, knowing the small kid could only take so much. 

When that bull pulled out those cuffs, Jack acted purely on instinct, adrenaline rushing through his veins as he forced himself to jump up onto the man’s back and put his skinny arms around the guy’s throat. “Crutchie, get outta here!” he cried as the bull fought to get him off and more violently fought for air. 

But the boy on the ground didn’t move, frozen with fear as he knew what was bound to happen next, where Jack was bound to wind up next. 

Jack could only offer him a sad look. “It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Go!” 

Without any other choice, knowing he would not survive the worst outcome of this situation, the child scrambled away, his bad leg dragging behind him as he did so. 

Jack watched him as he went, being whipped around on the man’s back every which way. The man was clearly struggling for air. If there was one thing Jack Kelly had, it was the strength to save his friends. But once Crutchie was out of sight, Jack knew he had to let go. 

So he did. 

He knew he had no place to go. A kid like him was lucky to have a fire escape to sleep on. With no food in him, it was a miracle he’d made it as far as he did before a hand fisted in the collar of his shirt and effectively lifted him up off the ground. “You’re gonna regret that, rat,” the cop growled in his ear. 

Jack shuddered but knew it was true. 

Though, he could hardly keep himself from twisting in the man’s grasp just enough to be able to spit onto his capture’s boot. The bull threw him to the ground after that, shoving his shoe into the small boy’s back. Jack could hear the clear clang of the cuffs. 

His wrists were twisted behind him. It hurt. He cried out. But the bull didn’t care. “Shut up, ya little bastard!” 

Though Jack kicked and fought the whole way, he found himself in that chair in that office with that man all over again. 

Snyder. 

But Crutchie had gotten away. 

In the end, that was all that mattered. 

  
  


_ "Breathe... pl's just breath... Race... wake up..." _

It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. 

“Breathe…” Jack begged the little boy laying limp in his own lap. “Please just breathe…” 

He didn’t know what Snyder had done. He hadn’t been in the room. 

And now they were locked in the closet and Jack was trembling with the boy in his arms. His friend. Punished just because he’d laughed with Jack at some stupid joke. 

It felt like a lifetime that they’d been in that prison. They didn’t make it this far to not make it out. “Race!” he cried, cradling the smaller boy to him. “Please, Race…” he was sure he was crying. 

The boy was only thirteen. This idiot had gotten himself caught all because Jack hadn’t been fast enough to get away. He just hadn’t wanted Jack to go through it alone again. The stupid kid was too brave for his own good. 

The boy in his arms was wheezing, hardly able to take a breath. Whatever the Spider had done might be the end of this kid and it was Jack’s fault. “Race… please… wake up…” he whimpered, running a hand over those blond curls. 

Race had been at the lodge longer than Jack had. He was the one who’d showed Jack the ropes, even though he’d been younger and smaller than him. Race was too good to die like this. He was too smart and too fun and too smug for it to be over like this. “Racer… please… I know you’s in there… Ya have ta hear me, kid… please… please keep breathin’...” 

If there was one thing Jack hated more than anything else, it was the inability to do anything. 

He was trapped in a small closet, unable to even stretch out his legs. He had nothing to clean his friend up with, though he was covering in his own blood and dirt. “Cmon, Race…” 

Every gasp for air sounded painful, like it might be the last. Jack couldn’t stop watching the kid’s chest rise and fall. He didn’t know when it might just stop.

There was a thud against the door. Jack tensed and tightened his grip around his friend. The door didn’t open. So he focused his attention back on Race. 

He hadn’t expected the boy’s eyes to blink open. 

“Oh, kid…” he whimpered. “Racer, can ya hear me?” 

He was only two years older than this boy. But he felt responsible for him, much like he did with all the other newsies that were younger than him. They looked up to him, even if they wouldn’t admit it. 

Race whined in his arms. Trying to hold back sobs. “It h’rt…” he managed to get out between gasps for air. 

“It’ll be okay…” Jack tried to promise, though he knew he shouldn’t be saying such things. 

They may never get out of this place. 

But Jack wasn’t about to let his friend know that. Instead he just shushed him and held him as tightly as he could without hurting him. “I got you… n’ I ain’t goin’ nowhere, okay?” 

The boy nodded up at him and reached with a trembling hand towards the older newsie. Jack took his bloodied palm gently in his own. 

And he held on tight. 

  
  


_ “Finch… run…”  _

They were cornered. Morris would catch up to them any second now and Jack was all out of options. 

Morris and Oscar knew these streets as well as he did. Oscar knew exactly where to cut him off to get them to run back into an alley with no other exit. 

They were stuck. 

Finch was jumpy beside him, only a slingshot with no more ammo in his right hand. The kid looked over at him, frightened and upset that they were trapped like that. 

Deep down, Jack knew the Delanceys didn’t have the stomach for murder, but he also knew that a beating from them could mean a week out of work, which also meant a week without food. Their brothers could only do so much to help them out after that. 

After all, they were only working for pennies. 

Jack couldn’t begin to figure why the Delanceys were sent after them this time. It was always a sort of reminder to remember their place, but the boy couldn’t recall what he’d done to deserve it today. 

It didn’t matter. Maybe Weasel was just bored. It wasn’t like that had never happened before. 

Resigning himself to his fate, Jack sighed. “Finch… when I say run, you run, got it?” he ordered calmly, glancing over at the fourteen year old boy who tried to shake his head. Jack wouldn’t have it. “Finch, do it.” 

Before Finch could even dare argue, footsteps were heard behind them and they turned to find Morris smirking at them, brass knuckles at the ready. 

Jack steadied his gaze when Morris laughed. “Well, well, well, Kelly n’ one a’ his dogs trapped in a corner.”

“Ya wan’ a date, Morris, ya coulda just asked,” Jack shot back with an irritated grin. “Ya chasin’ me halfway ta Brooklyn might scare me off some day.” 

Jack had been told his mouth was too smart for his own good. It sure had gotten him into trouble before. 

But he didn’t care. 

Without dignifying that with a response, Morris lunges at him, ready to take him down. But Jack was quick, ducking and barely dodging the punch before he whirled his way around the slightly older boy, jumping on his back and taking him down. 

It wouldn’t last long. “Finch, run!” 

He could only barely get out the words before Morris rolled on top of them and began lifting up his fist, bringing it down hard on Jack's face. 

Finch heard his leader cry out as he struggled to put up a fight. He knew Jack would get mad at him if he didn’t go and he knew Oscar couldn’t be far. 

But he also knew that he hated hearing Jack cry out like that. 

So he acted purely on instinct, running and tackling the bigger boy to the ground trying to get those brass knuckles away from him. Jack spit some blood on the ground before he rushed over to help, shaking his head as he managed to get that weapon out of Morris’s grip before giving him a swift kick to the gut. 

Then Jack grabbed Finch’s arm and started running again, more out of breath and slightly dizzy this time.

Once he was sure they were safe, he grabbed his brother by the shoulders and shoved him up against the wall of an alley. “Finch, I said run!” he growled, blood still dripping from his nose. “That wasn’t a suggestion!” 

“But—“

“No buts! Next time I tell ya ta do somethin’, you do it, understand?” Hesitantly, Finch nodded. So Jack sighed. “Good. C’mere.” Before Finch knew it, he was in Jack’s arms. “Thank you…” 

Finch didn’t know how to respond. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit stunned and confused. But he hugged Jack back tightly, not caring at all that they were both sweaty and tired. 

Jack pulled away to ruffle his hair. “You’re a good kid, Finch… tougher ‘n a lot a’ guys I know…” 

And together they walked home, Finch grinning all the way. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Again, sorry about the wait, friend!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Make sure to tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, what you'd change or what you'd improve by leaving me a review! Love ya, fansies!


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